


Control

by floral_veins



Category: Brallon - Fandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Slash, brallon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floral_veins/pseuds/floral_veins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dallon and Brendon are in an elevator, separated by about six inches of space, and are both aware of the air becoming thicker with tension as the silence continues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> short, most likely one-shot. quick little ficlet, hope you enjoy!

**Title:** Control  
 **Author:** floral_veins  
 **Pairing:** Brendon/Dallon  
 **Rating:** R  
 **POV:** Third omniscient, Dallon  
 **Disclaimer:** this story is a work of fiction. none of the events in this story have ever happen nor do i believe they will.  
 **Author's notes:** a short fic written (and posted) quickly on my phone, so i apologize for any possible mistakes! enjoy! :)  


Dallon and Brendon are in an elevator, separated by about six inches of space, and are both aware of the air becoming thicker with tension as the silence continues.  
The fact that there's no air conditioning makes this more evident.  
Dallon squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head up to the ceiling, neck exposed. He takes a deep breath - and his nose catches the faintest bit of French cologne, obviously radiating off of Brendon.  
Dallon opens his eyes but keeps staring at the ceiling, because he can't look over at Brendon. He can't. He's not going to let Brendon seduce him again, it makes him feel weak. Dallon hates buckling under the charm of his brazen, cocky bandmate, but he always succumbs somehow, and ends up with swollen lips and flushed cheeks, not to mention a sense of regret after realizing he let Brendon take advantage of him again.  
Dallon takes another deep breath, and this time he smells cologne mixed with leather, and clean laundry.  
His senses are on edge, and he knows exactly why.  
Brendon fidgets next to him, and Dallon watches from the corner of his eye, sees Brendon rake a hand through his slick hair, fumble with the zipper on his pristine leather jacket. Brendon smirks, knows Dallon's watching him, so he starts to chew on his lower lip. Dallon lets out a breath, a little too loudly, and he swears he could hear Brendon chuckle a bit.  
At this point, Dallon can feel the flush rising hot in his cheeks. He lets out a sharp breath through his nose, lips pressed in a thin line. Dallon is about to crack. He soon finds himself wanting to shove Brendon against the wall in this cramped elevator, wrap a hand around his neck, just to show him that Dallon is the one in control.  
Dallon can feel words on his tongue, words so hot and cloying that it's almost embarrassing... and then the elevator dings. The elevator dings, and Dallon is saved. But it was close.  
Dallon presses his nails into the palm of his hand until crescent-shaped indents are marking his skin, and he steps out of the elevator, taking greedy gulps of air, not waiting for Brendon as he walks down the hall to the hotel room. Down to this hotel room, where he will be spending an entire torturous night; alone with Brendon.


End file.
